


Epiphany

by msgenevieve



Series: Full Circle [1]
Category: Prison Break
Genre: AU, F/M, Het, Pre-Series, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-09
Updated: 2008-03-09
Packaged: 2017-10-30 19:03:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msgenevieve/pseuds/msgenevieve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For badboy_fangirl, who really wanted some Lincoln/Veronica that she didn't have to write herself.  Many thanks to wrldpossiblity for pointing out a sleep-deprived author's typos and to everyone who helped me to understand the American graduation ceremony a little better.  This story contains a huge amount of supposition and speculation re ages and pre-series canon which should be taken with a grain of fangirl salt, and is set in the <a href="http://www.prisonbreakfic.net/viewseries.php?seriesid=72">Full Circle</a> universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badboy_fangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badboy_fangirl/gifts).



~*~

Looking back, he should have known Michael was working his way up to dropping a mini-bombshell. He doesn’t argue over which pizzas to order, he doesn’t turn his nose up at Lincoln’s choice of beer, and he doesn’t wince at the Journey CD blaring from the stereo in the next room. 

It takes until halfway through dinner, but finally his brother takes an audible breath and eyeballs him across the table. “Vee called me today.”

“Yeah?” Lincoln tries to look as though he doesn’t care his own phone has been devoid of calls from Vee for over six months. “How is she?”

“She’s good.” His brother snags another piece of pizza from the box on the table between them, placing it carefully on his plate rather than taking a bite. “She’s graduating in two weeks.”

“Uh huh.”

“That’s why she called.” Michael gazes at him steadily. “She wants us to come.”

The pepperoni pizza he’d been enjoying suddenly turns to tasteless glue on his tongue. “Right.” He swallows hard, not meeting Michael’s eyes. “I guess she couldn’t think of anyone else to invite.” Michael says nothing. Sighing, Lincoln reluctantly lifts his gaze to his brother’s face. “She really wants us to come to Baylor?”

“Yes.”

“In Texas?” 

“Yes.”

“ _Both_ of us?”

Michael gives him a long-suffering look. “ _Yes_.”

Lincoln stares down at the half-eaten pizza on his plate. He might not have gone to college, but he knows how it works. It’s not as though students can invite as many people as they like to the graduation ceremony, and the thought that Veronica has chosen them - chosen _him_ \- over everyone else she knows is a little overwhelming.

He looks across the table, the unspoken hope in his brother’s eyes confirming what he already knows. This is something they need to do, as much for Vee as for themselves. He frowns, mentally flicking through the logistics. “We’d have to stay at least one night there, I suppose-”

“I can take care of the hotel booking.” As usual, his brother is quick to take the planning into his own hands, and Lincoln wonders if he’s already started making enquiries. Feeling outmaneuvered on two fronts, he gives up, knowing that objecting would only be fighting a losing battle.

“I guess this means we’re going on a road trip.”

“I thought we might fly, actually.” Michael hesitates, then confirms Lincoln’s earlier suspicion that he’d already started researching travel arrangements. “I don't want to have to miss too many shifts at the shelter, and the airfares aren’t that bad.”

Lincoln does his best not to wince. Finding the cash for even the cheapest airfare will take some doing, but he’s not in the mood for yet another argument over money. “Works for me.”

“Great.” Michael flashes him a quick grin, something that seems to happen less and less these days, Lincoln realises with a pang. “You can buy a new tie with the money we save on the tickets.”

Lincoln snorts. He’s never taken fashion advice from someone who insists on wearing a baseball cap with everything, and he sees no reason to start now. “Yeah, right,” he mutters as he reaches for his beer. “Dream on, man.”

~*~

Waco in May is hot. Stinking hot, in fact. 

Shifting restlessly on the hard plastic seat, Lincoln scowls as he plucks at the lapels of the black jacket Michael had insisted he wear. _And to think he assumed he was getting off easy by not wearing a tie_ , he thinks sourly, feeling a yet another bead of sweat trail down his spine. 

Beside him, Michael looks irritatingly comfortable in a long-sleeved shirt and tie, topped off by his ever-present baseball cap. He’s been quiet, almost pensive, ever since they arrived on campus, and Lincoln wonders if he’s thinking about the day when he’ll finally graduate from Loyola. 

“Don’t know why she had to go to school all the way out here,” Lincoln mutters, the hot sun making him feel as though he’s been awake for forty-eight hours straight. “Why didn’t she just do her doctorate at Illinois?” 

Scanning the crowd of gown-clad graduates gathering to their right, Michael doesn’t look at him as he replies. “Maybe she wanted to get away for a while.”

Lincoln shoves his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose with an irritated finger. “Away from me, you mean?”

Michael’s shrug is non-committal. “From a lot of things, I think.”

Lincoln slouches down in his chair, thinking of everything Veronica had left behind in Chicago when she’d moved to Texas. A deadbeat father, a tiny off-campus apartment with suspect electrical wiring, and an ex-boyfriend who’d fathered a child to someone else two seconds after she’d gone away to college the first time around. 

When he lets himself think about it like _that_ , he’d be surprised if she _ever_ came back.

“There she is,” Michael suddenly announces, and Lincoln finds himself sitting to attention, straining for his first glimpse of Veronica Donovan in over a year. It takes him less than five seconds to pick her out of the crowd, and the sight of her hits him like a punch to the gut.

She’s smiling at the female student beside her, the two of them laughingly comparing the too-long sleeves of their bright blue gowns. Her black hair is sleek and glossy, tumbling over her shoulders, her mouth a vivid splash of colour in her pale face. She looks calm and serious and beautiful and he’s suddenly very glad he let Michael talk him into shaving this morning. 

The ceremony lasts - God help him - over two hours. Even with the distraction of watching Veronica to keep him occupied, it’s an effort not to fall into a stupor after the first twenty minutes’ worth of mind-numbingly boring speeches. 

When they finally get around to handing out the diplomas and Veronica’s name is called, Michael puts his fingers to his lips and whistles loudly, making several heads turn. Veronica darts a quick, faintly embarrassed grin at the crowd, then walks across the stage to shake the dean’s hand. Beneath the hem of her gown, Lincoln sees the pale flash of her slender ankles, the black patent leather of her ridiculously high heels gleaming in the sunshine. He narrows his gaze, suddenly assailed by the memory of a pair of heels just like that digging into the small of his back, Veronica’s short skirt bunched high around her thighs, her arms wrapped tight around his neck. 

_Fuck._

A fresh prickle of sweat breaks out on his forehead, and he swipes the back of his hand across his damp skin. The sudden ache in his groin is harder to ignore, and he stares resolutely at Veronica’s beaming face, doing his best to forget about sex and high heels and the smell of her skin when it’s flushed with heat.

Seems he’s fighting a lot of losing battles lately.

Finally it’s over, everyone from A to Z having waltzed across the stage to various degrees of applause, and he and Michael get to their feet, stretching stiff legs and numb butts that have already spent several hours on a too-small plane seat. The courtyard is suddenly a swarming sea of humanity, and he looks at his brother with a frown. “What now?” 

Michael pulls off his cap and runs his hand over his head, then tugs the cap back over his eyes. “Now we find her before her father does.”

Lincoln’s hand shoots out, gripping his brother by the arm as he turns to file out of their row of seats. “What?”

Michael sighs loudly. “She asked me not to tell you because she knew you wouldn’t come if you knew Thomas was going to be here.”

They stare at each other while Lincoln bites back several choice words. The notion of being shut out bothers him a hell of a lot more than he wants to admit. “Damn straight,” he finally mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. “Why the hell did she invite him?”

“He’s her father, Linc.”

Lincoln scowls as they begin to shuffle out into the open area beside the rows of seats. “He’s a drunken lowlife.”

“Maybe she wants to prove something to him.” Michael gives him a quick, unreadable glance over his shoulder. “Did you think of that?” 

“She’s worth a thousand of him and she always has been,” he shoots back, and Michael’s gaze narrows.

“Are we still talking about her father, or is this you beating yourself up again?”

Lincoln scowls as they make their way through the crowd. “Don’t start that shit up again.”

“She wanted you to be here, Linc,” Michel points out in a carefully even voice. “Maybe you should wait until you see her before you start making assumptions about how she feels about you.” Without waiting for a reply, Michael stops and scans the crowd once more, and Lincoln has to pull up short to stop himself from smacking into his brother’s shoulder. 

“I got another woman pregnant two months after she went away to Illinois,” Lincoln says darkly. “I’m pretty sure I know how Vee feels about me.”

Michael studies him for a moment. “You and Vee weren’t actually together when that happened, right?”

“No, we’d sorta decided to see other people while she was away, but-” 

“But what?”

Lincoln looks at his younger brother and reminds himself that having a high IQ doesn’t always mean you understand how the world works. “And you’re supposed to be the genius in the family,” he says with a wry smile. Wishing Michael had thought to start up this conversation while they were on the plane, sitting in air-conditioned comfort, he tugs irritably at the lapels of his jacket. “Seeing other people and getting another woman pregnant are two very different things, Michael.”

“I know.” To his surprise, Michael pats him awkwardly on the shoulder, then his face breaks into a wide grin. “Found her.”

The crowd suddenly seems to part before them and she’s there, smiling and happy. He can only hope she’s happy to see _them_. She heads straight for Michael, and Lincoln watches with barely disguised envy as the two of them share an easy embrace. “The outfit’s a little big,” Michael says teasingly as he pulls away, nodding at the baggy gown that swamps Vee’s slight frame. “But the colour suits you.”

She grins. “It goes with your cap,” she volleys back playfully, then seems to take a deep breath as she turns to Lincoln.

“Hey.”

Hastily pulling off his sunglasses, he gives her a smile he hopes to hell doesn’t look as sheepish as it feels. “Hey.”

As far as their first face-to-face meeting in a year goes, it’s not exactly an encouraging start.

“Michael’s right,” he adds quickly. “You look good, Vee.”

A hint of colour stains her carefully made-up face. “Thank you. So do you.” She looks him up and down, her lipsticked mouth curved in a smirk. “A jacket and polished shoes. I’m impressed.” She lifts her eyes to his, and the impact of her direct gaze almost has him taking a step backward. 

God, he’s missed her. Until this moment, he hadn’t realised how much of a gaping hole her absence has left in his life, and he moves toward her now without another second thought, slipping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a hug. “I’m real proud of you.”

“Thanks.” She leans into him without hesitation, her cheek pressed against his shoulder, one arm sliding around his waist. “I’m glad you came.”

“Hey Ronnie, want me to take a picture of you with your family?” A willowy blonde classmate of Veronica’s has stopped beside them, her gaze sweeping over them before fixing on Michael with a faintly predatory gleam. “So you can all be in the shot together?”

Lincoln smirks down at Veronica. “What do you say, _Ronnie_?” The jibe earns him a gentle punch to the stomach, and he can’t help thinking he’d insult her again in a heartbeat if it meant she’d keep touching him. 

“Thanks, Kirstin, that would be great.” Veronica produces an impossibly small camera from the depths of her gown and hands it to the other girl. “It’s auto focus, so just point and shoot.”

Kirstin smiles at Michael, who looks as though he’s fighting the urge to shuffle his feet. “I think I can manage that.”

As the blonde lifts the camera to her face, Lincoln tightens his arm around Vee’s shoulder, pulling her closer. “Smile for the birdie, Ronnie” he quips lamely, and she chuckles, tilting back her head as she grins at her classmate. 

Lincoln and Veronica spend the next few minutes watching Michael politely deflect at least ten different opening lines from their friendly photographer. When Kirstin smilingly admits defeat and sashays into the crowd, Michael practically breathes a sigh of relief. “Well, you blew that one,” Vee tells him, but he only shrugs.

“Not really my type.”

Lincoln chuckles. “Michael doesn’t like blondes.”

He and Veronica laugh together, which feels a lot better than maybe it should, and Michael gives them both an injured look. “How do you know what I like?”

“Name me one blonde you’ve dated.”

Michael opens his mouth, then shuts it again, and Lincoln claps his brother on the back. “Exactly.”

Veronica glances at Michael, then at him, her smiling suddenly looking a little forced. “Uh, my dad is here somewhere.”

Lincoln blinks. He’d been so distracted by being in her company again he’d managed to forget that unpleasant detail. “Did he fly down?”

She shrugs, her gaze dropping to the scrolled paper in her hand. “I gave him some money towards a plane ticket,” she says in a clipped voice. “So I guess he did.”

Lincoln bites his tongue with an effort, but he knows they’re all thinking the same thing. _Yeah, right._

Michael has started scanning the crowd once more, obviously looking for Thomas Donovan. “You haven’t seen him yet?”

“He said he’d find me after the ceremony.” Lifting her head, she gives Lincoln a faintly pleading look. “Please be nice.”

He holds up his hands. “Hey, it’s not me you have to worry about.”

“Vee, I think I see your dad.”

Veronica stands on tiptoe at Michael’s words, following the line of his pointing finger. “Oh God, he’s talking to the Dean.” Her face pale and tense, she glances at them both in turn. “I’ll be right back.”

Already dreading what he knows is going to happen, Lincoln gives her a reassuring smile. “We’ll be here.”

She darts away through the crowd, and Michael turns to look at him. “This isn’t going to go well, is it?”

Lincoln grimaces. “Probably not, no.”

It doesn’t.

Thomas Donovan is dressed in a twenty-year old suit and a new tie. He’s also drunk, his speech artificially precise, his pale blue gaze fading in and out of focus. He barely spares Michael a glance before looking Lincoln up and down with familiar disdain. Given the terms of their last meeting - a bitter argument over LJ that almost saw them come to blows – Lincoln is hardly surprised. “So this is why your aunt and uncle couldn’t come,” he says to his daughter, whose face tightens.

“No, they couldn’t come because I didn’t want them to come,” Veronica fires back through gritted teeth. “I thought it would be more fun to have people here who actually gave a damn about me.”

Lincoln bites his tongue again, while Michael looks as though he’d rather be anywhere else in the world. Thomas Donovan stares at Lincoln for a few seconds more, then turns to his daughter with a smile that doesn’t go anywhere near his eyes. “So you got your fancy piece of paper.”

“Yes.” Veronica’s voice is hollow, and Lincoln feels his hands curl into tight fists at his sides. He wants very much to move to stand beside her, but he knows it will only make things worse. 

Her father sways slightly on his feet as he gestures to the diploma in her hand. “That thing doesn’t make you a lawyer, you know. You gotta earn that title.”

Veronica’s eyes are glittering now. “I know.”

Lincoln steps forward, shrugging off Michael’s retraining hand. “Thomas?”

“What?”

“How about letting your daughter know you’re proud of her?” 

Veronica’s father’s gaze narrows. “Are you trying to tell me how to talk to my daughter?”

He knows the older man is operating under the influence, but Lincoln doesn’t bother hiding his contempt. “Yeah, because it’s obvious you don’t have the first clue about how to do it right.”

Thomas Donovan turns to his daughter. “You want some fatherly advice, do ya?” He stabs his finger through the air at Lincoln. “You hang out with losers long enough and you’ll never be anything but a loser. Best thing you ever did was to dump this one’s ass.” 

It’s as though someone gives him an invisible push in the back. Lincoln steps towards him, his hands itching with the urge to cram those words back in the old drunk’s mouth. Veronica immediately moves to stand between them, just like she’s been doing since she was ten years old. Putting one hand on Lincoln’s arm, she looks at her father. “Where are you staying tonight?”

“Place over on Stanley Street.” Thomas Donovan is swaying on his feet badly now, his eyes glassy. “Might have to sit for a while before we eat,” he says thickly. “This goddamned heat’s got to me.”

As Veronica swiftly urges him towards the nearest plastic chair, Lincoln looks at Michael. “It’s going _very_ well, don’t you think?”

Michael’s expression is pained. “Fantastic.”

Veronica pulls off her mortar board cap as she walks back to them, running an agitated hand through her hair. “I’m sorry about that,” she says in a tight, small voice, and Lincoln reaches out to take her hand, secure in the knowledge that her father is practically asleep in his chair. 

“Don’t you ever think you have to apologise for him to us, Vee.” He holds her gaze with his, not letting her look away. “Ever.” 

Her small hand tightens around his, her eyes soft and filled with a sudden wealth of emotion that makes his gut turn inside out. “Do you guys want to take a look around the campus for a while?” She glances over her shoulder at her father, then back at them. “I need to get him back to his hotel so he can sleep it off. I’ll meet you as soon as I can.” Her hopeful expression makes Lincoln’s heart twist. “We can a drink, or maybe some dinner?”

“Sounds good,” Michael says with a broad grin, obviously relieved to be on safer conversational ground. “We actually only came down here for the Texan barbecue.” 

She laughs, the tension in her face easing, and Lincoln releases her hand, torn between the urge to whisk her away this instant and the knowledge she needs to see her father safely to his hotel. “Are you sure you don’t want us to help you get him to his hotel?”

She shakes her head. “The only way this could turn out worse is if he woke up while you were tucking him into bed.”

He grins. “Call and let me know what’s happening, okay? I’ve got my cell on me.” He gives her a pointed look. “Unless you’ve forgotten the number, that is.”

She shoots him a stern look that’s somewhat spoiled by the smile playing about her bright red lips. “Smartass.” 

He watches as she guides her father across the courtyard, her dark head barely reaching his shoulder, and is once again swamped by the sensation of having found the huge chunk of _something_ missing from his life. He turns to Michael, who is watching him with a decidedly smug expression. “What?”

His brother smirks. “If you two want to be alone tonight, just let me know.”

Lincoln flushes, shoving his hands deep in his pockets, trying not to let it show that the thought of being alone with Veronica fills him with both anticipation and a dulled sense of terror. “Thanks for the offer, man, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

Michael raises one eyebrow, his smirk firmly fixed in place. “We’ll see.”

~*~


	2. Chapter 2

~*~

He watches as Veronica guides her father across the courtyard, her dark head barely reaching his shoulder, and is once again swamped by the sensation of having found the huge chunk of _something_ missing from his life. He turns to Michael, who is watching him with a decidedly smug expression. “What?”

His brother smirks. “If you two want to be alone tonight, just let me know.”

Lincoln flushes, shoving his hands deep in his pockets, trying not to let it show that the thought of being alone with Veronica fills him with both anticipation and a dulled sense of terror. “Thanks for the offer, man, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

Michael raises one eyebrow, his smirk still firmly fixed in place. “We’ll see.”

They spend the next hour strolling around the campus, but Lincoln's mind is firmly fixed on Veronica’s father rather than their surroundings. Michael is happily absorbed in studying the older buildings on campus, and Lincoln can’t help but envy the apparent serenity of his brother’s thoughts.

“Can you believe that guy?”

“Sadly, yes.”

Lincoln stares unseeingly at the ornate building in front of them. Michael had told him its name only two minutes ago, but it’s already slipped right out of his head. Instead he’s thinking of Veronica’s face when her father was talking trash at her, the way her bottom lip had quivered for a few seconds before firming into a stubborn line. “Let’s get a beer.”

~*~

“How was your trip to the movies with LJ yesterday?”

“Pretty good.” Lincoln leans back in the booth as the waitress places an overpriced beer in front of both of them, waiting until she leaves before answering. “Until he asked in a really loud voice why I don’t sleep in his mom’s bed.”

Michael’s eyes widen, his mouth twitching as though he’s trying not to smile. “I thought you already had that conversation with him.”

“A few times.” Lincoln rubs his thumb over the droplets of moisture clinging to the neck of his beer bottle. “He keeps asking, though.”

“Maybe he thinks if he keeps asking, he’ll eventually get an answer he likes.”

Lincoln feels a reluctant smile tug at his own lips. “He’s a stubborn kid.”

“Just like his dad,” his brother says in a casual voice that’s not really casual, and Lincoln narrows his gaze.

“Are we back to talking about Vee again?”

Michael shrugs, his beer bottle dangling from his long fingers. “I just don’t think you’re giving her enough credit.”

Lincoln shakes his head. “It’s not her who’s the problem, man.” He looks around the crowded bar, seeing dozens of smiling graduates, laughing girls with perfect teeth and hair and legs. None of them even come close to Veronica, as far as he’s concerned. “Look how far she’s come without having me around to drag her down.”

His brother gives him an exasperated look. “You think she couldn’t have achieved what she has if she was still dating you.”

“I don’t think,” Lincoln tells him flatly, “I know.”

Michael studies him, looking as though he’s about to launch into the same Veronica-related lecture Lincoln’s heard a dozen times before. Much to Lincoln’s relief, his cell phone rings before Michael can get a single word out.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” Veronica informs him in a cheery voice. “Where are you guys?”

“Uh, hang on.” He looks across the table at Michael. “What’s the name of this place?”

Rolling his eyes, Michael holds up a brightly coloured coaster emblazoned with the bar’s name. “Uh, O’Malley’s?”

Ignoring his brother’s eye-rolling, Lincoln turns his attention back to Veronica. “O’Malley’s.”

She chuckles. “Trust you to find a place that’s always jam-packed with hot college girls.”

He grins into the phone. “And once you get here, there will be at least one I’m interested in talking to.”

“You’re so full of it,” she tells him, and the throaty, teasing note in her voice makes him painfully aware of how long it’s been since she’d flirted with him. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Great,” he says, inwardly wincing at the eager teenaged boy he seems to be channeling. Putting his phone onto the table, he looks up to find Michael watching him with obvious amusement. “What?”

Michael raises his eyebrows, a smug expression that fills Lincoln with the urge to tip what’s left of his beer over his head. “Just say the word and I’ll make myself scarce.”

Even as his gut tightens at the thought of being alone with Vee for the whole evening, Lincoln waves away the suggestion. They didn’t come all this way for him to leave Michael in the cold for hours on end. “Leave it alone, will ya?”

Veronica arrives half an hour later, pushing her way through the chattering crowd. Lincoln waves his hand above his head, a broad smile stretching his mouth as her eyes meet his. He watches her as she walks towards him, taking in the silky red - God, his favourite colour on her – blouse, the tight black skirt that hits her knees in exactly the right spot. She looks like his idea of heaven, and he wonders suddenly why on hell he keeps turning down Michael’s offer to disappear. 

“Hello boys,” she quips as she slides into the booth beside Lincoln. “Did you miss me?”

“More than life itself,” he says playfully, only realizing once the words are out of his mouth that he’s not really joking. The thought seems to occur to Veronica at the same time, her bright eyes widening then narrowing in the same heartbeat, her smile wavering hesitantly. 

“I’m glad to hear it.” She throws Michael a grin, and Lincoln is glad from the respite from her intent gaze. “I’ll have a vodka and lime if you’re buying?”

Michael laughs, shaking his head even as he’s reaching for his wallet. “Remind me to sponge off you as soon as you land that high-paying job, okay?” He slides out of the booth and makes his way to the bar, leaving Lincoln alone with the woman who has haunted his dreams for the past several years. He thinks of Michael’s constant assertion that he was too quick to write off the relationship, then takes a deep breath and stretches his arm along the back of the booth, his fingertips almost touching the silken fall of her inky black hair. 

She darts him a glance between thick, dark eyelashes, then moves closer to him, sliding along the polished wood of the seat until her thigh is almost touching his. He can smell her perfume, flowers and spice, his blood warming at an ancient memory of watching her dab it in the hollow of her breasts and throat. Her hair smells like lavender and the faintest traces of cigarette smoke, reminding him of the reason why they had to amuse themselves this afternoon. “How’s your dad?”

She makes a face. “Sleeping it off.”

He blows out a loud breath, trying not to think about how many times they’ve had this conversation. “Sorry about making a scene.”

She shakes her head. “Wasn’t your fault, Linc.” She gives him a smile that makes him feel as though he’s just downed a shot of straight scotch. “It meant a lot to me, having you there today.”

He gives in to the urge to touch her hair, rubbing the smooth strands between his thumb and forefinger. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” 

She doesn’t pull away from his hesitant touch, instead surprising him by leaning closer. “You know, I have an interview lined up in Chicago next month.”

“Yeah?”

She nods. “Bianchi and Guthrie. They’re a good firm.”

He doesn’t give a damn if they’re a pack of two-bit crooks or the most prestigious firm in America. All he cares about is that she’s planning to come back to Chicago and that she’s letting him touch her hair and her thigh is now pressed firmly against his in a silent query his body is already clamoring to answer. “You’re gonna move back to Chicago?”

“Yeah.” Her gaze doesn’t waver from his. “I miss it.”

They stare at each other, and he wants very much to take her hand and put it on his heart. Let her feel what being here with her is doing to him, rather than trying to explain the unexplainable. 

“Do you guys want some buffalo wings?”

Michael is back, hanging over the back of the booth, grinning at them. If Lincoln didn’t know his brother was ten months past the legal drinking age, he’d be tempted to think he was still in high school. He scowls at him, then he feels Veronica’s hand on his knee and being interrupted doesn’t seem to matter anymore. “Sure.”

~*~

The three of them spend the next few hours talking and drinking and eating, and Lincoln marvels that the first time he’s felt truly at home in years is when he’s hundreds of miles from his apartment. None of them are drunk - Michael’s a cautious drinker and Veronica’s been cradling her last vodka rocks for almost an hour now - but anyone looking at them would think otherwise, watching them laughing until they’re wiping away tears. When they’re finished swapping stories of their juvenile adventures, they talk about Veronica’s hopes for her career, Michael’s work at the shelter, LJ’s performance in his grade school play. Veronica’s eyes soften whenever he mentions LJ, and Lincoln knows then that Michael has been right all along. She may not have forgotten, but she _has_ forgiven him, and the realization makes his head swim. 

Veronica leaves his side only to visit the bathroom, and every time she returns, she seems to end up sitting even closer to him. Intoxicated by her presence, he switches to light beer, hoping to curtail the urge to slide his hands beneath the table and palm the bare curve of her knee. 

It doesn’t work. Every time she moves, he wants to run his hands over her skin. Every time she smiles, he wants to lean down and cover her mouth with his, kissing the laughter from her lips. He wants to taste her, her skin and her mouth, the translucent swell of her breasts and thighs, and he’s not long how much longer he can sit beside her in this bar without telling her he wants to do all those things and more.

When they find themselves alone again - Michael’s vanished to the bathroom or the bar, Lincoln’s not entirely sure - Veronica runs her hand down his arm, fingertips flicking at the cuff of his coat. “Aren’t you hot in that jacket?”

“A little.” He could be wearing shorts and a t-shirt and her touch would still make him sweat, but he doesn’t tell her that. 

Her eyes sparkle with mischief and something else, something that makes his groin tighten. “You can take it off now, you know.”

Never one to ignore a beautiful woman telling him to take off an item of clothing, he grins and immediately shrugs out of his jacket, folding it clumsily and putting in on the seat beside him. “Happy now?”

Her gaze flicks over him, lingering on his shoulders and chest, then lifts to meet his, her eyes glittering with a hunger he thought he’d never see again. “Yes.”

He swallows hard as every drop of blood in his body seems to rush straight to his crotch. Lack of oxygen to the brain, he decides afterwards, is really the only explanation for what he says next. “I’ve missed you so much.”

_So much for playing it cool._

She doesn’t look away. She faces him head-on, the way she always has. “I’ve missed you too.”

He holds his breath as she leans closer to him, her gaze dropping to his mouth. Sliding his hand into the silken mass of her hair, he cups the back of her head, closing his eyes as he feels the touch of her mouth on his for the first time in years. 

Her kiss is soft and gentle and tastes of whiskey and it rips through his blood like a firestorm. Digging his fingertips into her scalp, he slides his tongue between her lips, tasting lipstick and alcohol, and a low moan vibrates in the back of her throat. One of her hands is on his chest, the other on his thigh, and if he doesn’t stop kissing her in the next ten seconds, he is going to commit an act of public indecency right in this booth. 

He somehow manages to pull away, his pulse hammering in his head and his cock, the sound of the crowd around them fading away until there’s only her and him and them. “Jesus, Vee, what are we doing?”

She looks at him with glazed eyes, then lifts her hand to his face, rubbing her thumb over his mouth, coming away smudged with lipstick. “The same thing we always do when we’re together, I guess.”

He stares at her. “Fall back into bad habits?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of giving into temptation.” Shaking her head, she reaches for her purse, pulling out a compact with visibly trembling hands. “I’d better erase the evidence before Michael gets back,” she murmurs almost shyly, then glances around the crowded bar. “Where is he, anyway?”

Distracted by his attempt to adjust the suddenly uncomfortable fit of his jeans, it takes Lincoln a moment to join her in scanning the throng. Veronica finds Michael first, chuckling as she nudges Lincoln shoulder with hers. “Check it out.”

He follows the line of her gaze to the bar to where Michael is talking to a willowy brunette who is draped decoratively on the bar stool next to him, her long legs gracefully crossed. The girl is gazing at him with an avid interest that not even a blind man could miss, her perfect teeth flashing white against her lipstick as she laughs at whatever he’s saying to her. Given he’s gazing at her just as intently, smiling right back at her, it seems as though Michael hasn’t missed a thing.

When the girl puts her hand on Michael’s arm, leaning close to whisper something in his ear, Lincoln grins and turns back to Veronica. “I told you he didn’t like blondes.”

She gives him a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Unlike his big brother.”

His mouth still tingling from her hiss, he feels as though he’s just been slapped. “Vee.” Reaching out, he takes her hands in his, tangling his fingers through hers. “I can’t undo all the things I’ve screwed up, I know that.” He searches her eyes, desperate for a clue to what lies beneath the sultry smile and tipsy flirting. “And if you’re angry with me, it’s no less than I deserve.”

She studies him for a long time, then seems to come to some kind of decision. “Where are you staying tonight?”

His mouth goes dry. “Uh, the Hampton Inn.”

Her reddened mouth purses into a silent whistle. “Nice choice. Michael’s idea?”

Her hand is on his leg, her thumb brushing lazy strokes over his jeans, making it hard to think of anything except how soon he can get her naked and underneath him. “Yeah.”

She quirks an eyebrow at him. “Want to give me the tour?”

Heat blooms through his veins and beneath his skin, up the back of his neck and legs. “What about Michael?” he mutters, pleased that he’s managed to remember he didn’t come to the bar alone.

Veronica casts an amused glance towards the bar to where Michael and the dark-haired girl are still locked in deep conversation. “I’m sure he’ll be okay for a while.”

Just like he had in Chicago when Michael had first told him about Veronica’s graduation, he feels as though he’s lost the battle before it’s even started. “Let me just check with him, okay?”

Michael looks faintly sheepish when Lincoln taps him on the shoulder, as if he’s suddenly realized it’s taken him over an hour to buy a round of drinks. “Hey, sorry, I was just -” He breaks off, darting a quick glance at the girl beside him as the tips of his ear turn pink, much to Lincoln’s amusement. “Lincoln, this is Lucy. She’s doing Engineering at Baylor.”

Lucy manages to tear her gaze away from Michael long enough to give Lincoln a smile. “Hi.”

 _Trust Michael to find a fellow engineering student who also looks as though she could make her fortune modeling instead of designing buildings_ , he thinks. “Hi. Lucy.” He looks at Michael. “Vee and I are going to take a walk.”

Michael looks over his shoulder at Veronica, then back at Lincoln. “Sure.”

“You’re okay here?”

His brother smiles, a very adult smile that Lincoln doesn’t remember ever seeing before. “Definitely.”

~*~

He first kissed Veronica Donovan when he was twelve years old, a chaste press of his lips against hers. It had made him feel as though his feet were no longer touching the ground. Fourteen years later, the feel of her mouth on his still has the same effect. 

Somehow he managed to shut the hotel room door behind him before reaching for her, and now his back is pressed against the wall, his hands cupping her ass as she squirms against him, her mouth open and gasping beneath his. Tightening his grip on her butt, he rocks his hips against hers, biting back a groan as his straining erection presses into the crease of her thigh. She wriggles impatiently against him, making him feel even more light-headed, then she pulls away. 

“You always _were_ too tall to do this standing up,” she mutters as she kicks off her shoes, then she’s tugging on his hand and pulling him towards one of the twin beds. 

“Not that one,” he says automatically, and she gives him a ‘are you kidding me?’ look. He pulls her into his arms and bends his head to kiss her, hard. When he’s finished, she looks dazed and he's as hard as a rock. “That’s Michael’s bed,” he manages to say in a faintly strangled voice.

“How do you know?”

He slips his arms around her waist, his fingers finding the zipper at the back of her skirt. “He called it this morning.”

“You two are hopeless.” She snickers, the sound catching in her throat as he dips his fingertips below the loosened waistband. “How old are you?”

He takes her hand and puts it on his belt buckle, holding her eyes with his as she slides her palm downwards. “Old enough,” he mumbles, then she’s touching him, making his vision blur around the edges, and he decides they’ve wasted enough time talking.

It’s been a long time since they’ve danced this particular dance together, but it takes less than a minute for it all to come rushing back. Her hands reach for his shirt buttons as his fingers unsnap her bra, her arms wind around his neck as his hands rise to cup her pale breasts. He kisses her as he cups his hand between her legs, swallowing her moan as he rubs his fingers over the damp silk of her underpants. Finally she’s naked and so is he, their clothes tossed carelessly onto the other bed, and he wants her so much it’s almost embarrassing. Gathering her in his arms, he pulls her down onto the bed and rolls her onto her back, the press of her naked, warm flesh against his from neck to knee making him shudder with pleasure. “Holy fuck, Vee -“

Her face flushed, she arches beneath him, her thighs lifting to cradle his hips until his aching cock presses against the soft heat between her legs. “I’m on the pill,” she whispers urgently, shifting restlessly beneath him, and he needs no further urging. 

Being inside her is like coming home.

He closes his eyes, the breath seizing in his lungs at the feel of her around him, so tight and hot and wet, then opens them to find her staring up at him with such longing he can’t stop himself from saying the words anymore than he could pull his body away from hers. “I love you.”

She cups his face in her hands, her gaze searching his face. “Tell me again when we’re done, okay?” Her honesty hits him like a punch to the solar plexus, then she’s moving beneath him and he can barely remember his own name, let alone the etiquette of sleeping with an ex-girlfriend. Her mouth is hot on his throat, her teeth nipping the spot she knows makes him crazy, her hands running down his back to grip his butt, urging him on. 

He wants to go slow but it’s as though their bodies snapped into fast-motion the instant they touched each other. They’re rushing towards something familiar, something new and unknown, and every thrust of his hips makes him feel as though he’s one step closer to making everything right again. He bends his head to her breasts, sucking on one tight nipple then the other, her gasp of pleasure making him grow even harder inside her. “God, you’re beautiful.“

“Stop talking,” she whispers laughingly, her breath hot in his ear as she squeezes his ass, pulling him deeper inside her. He feels the familiar tingle starting at the base of his spine and grits his teeth, sliding his hands beneath her butt to lift her higher, burying himself deep inside her in slow, steady thrusts, watching her face as she gets closer and closer. When she tosses her head back onto the pillow, her teeth white against her bottom lip, he slides one hand between them, dipping his finger into the sleek heat of her to find the spot he hopes will make her spine arch and her thighs tighten around his hips. 

He's right.

She says his name loudly when she comes, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as she writhes beneath him. He follows her in the next heartbeat, let himself go, letting her climax grip and coax his aching flesh until he has nothing left to give. Finally he slumps over her, his breath sounding like a fucking freight train, sweating and spent and happier than he’s felt in a very long time.

After what feels like an eternity, he feels her small hand on his cheek, her fingertips stroking his jaw. “I’d forgotten,” she murmurs wistfully, her palm warm against his cheek.

He brushes the hair back from her damp forehead. “Forgotten what?”

She smiles at him, and it suddenly feels as though the last six years have just fallen away. “How good it was,” she murmurs wistfully, her palm warm against his face.

Maybe those four little words shouldn’t make him feel as though she’s just handed him a winning lottery ticket, but they do. “Listen, Vee?”

Her fingertips trailing lazily up and down his chest, she gives him a sleepy glance. “Hmmm?”

He takes a deep breath, buoyed by the certainty that this is right. “I love you.” 

“I know,” she chuckles softly, her bare thigh sliding across his as she lifts her face to his, her breath warm as she whispers the words against his mouth. “I love you too.”

~*~


	3. Chapter 3

~*~

After what feels like an eternity, he feels her small hand on his cheek, her fingertips stroking his jaw. “I’d forgotten,” she murmurs wistfully, her palm warm against his cheek.

He brushes the hair back from her damp forehead. “Forgotten what?”

She smiles at him, and it suddenly feels as though the last six years have just fallen away. “How good it was."

Maybe those four little words shouldn’t make him feel as though she’s just handed him a winning lottery ticket, but they do. “Listen, Vee?”

Her fingertips trailing lazily up and down his chest, she gives him a sleepy glance. “Hmmm?”

He takes a deep breath, buoyed by the certainty that this is right. “I love you.” 

“I know,” she chuckles softly, her bare thigh sliding across his as she lifts her face to his, her breath warm as she whispers the words against his mouth. “I love you too.”

He kisses her, swallowing the last word from her tongue as his hands bury themselves in her silky hair. “I can’t wait for you to come home,” he murmurs when they come up for air. “We can make this work, Vee. I know it.”

“Linc-” She sighs into the kiss, her fingertips fluttering over his jaw, then she slowly pulls away, her eyes searching his. “It’s going to take me a few weeks to wrap up everything up here,” she says in a casual voice that doesn’t quite hit its mark, and he suddenly wonders if he’s been taking too much for granted, just like he always does when it comes to her. He thinks of her whispering to him about being on the pill, and a cold ripple of apprehension washes over him.

“You seeing someone out here?” He does his best to sound as though one particular answer isn’t going to rip out his guts, but he’s not sure how well he succeeds. 

“No.” She doesn’t flush or look away, meeting his gaze steadily. “Not exactly, anyway,” she says slowly, then shrugs. “You know what college is like.” 

He gives her a look. “I didn’t go to college, remember?” She bites her bottom lip at his sour drawl, and he immediately regrets giving into the instinctive urge to keep score of old grudges and ancient fucking history. “Sorry.”

She studies him for a few seconds, then shifts closer, her chin resting on his chest, just above his heart. “It’s okay.” After pressing a lingering kiss to his bare chest, she lifts her head and gives him a slow smile. “I guess we should make ourselves respectable. Wouldn’t want to shock your little brother.”

“Yeah, well.” Lincoln grins, remembering how his _little brother_ had been eyeing off that engineering chick in the bar. “I don’t know how easily shocked he is these days.”

~*~

They make their way back to the bar slowly, and with every step the feel of Vee’s hand gripping his makes him feel as though he could take on dozens of drunken lowlifes like her father without breaking a sweat. Speaking of which –

“What’s your dad think about you coming back to Chicago?”

She frowns at the flashing toes of her patent leather heels. “He flip flops between telling me not to think I can just waltz back into his home and complaining that he won’t see enough of me if I take a lease on a new apartment uptown.”

He can almost feel his back teeth grinding. “Sounds like Thomas.”

“Some things never change.” She blows out a loud breath, and he doesn’t have to look at her face to know she’s frustrated. He _does_ look, though, because it’s been too fucking long since he was able to turn his head and see her at his side. 

“It’ll work out okay,” he tells her with a confidence he’s pretty sure he’ll actually feel as soon as she’s really back in Chicago and he knows it’s not just some pipe dream.

She flashes him a smile. “I hope so.”

The bar is even more crowded than it was when they’d left an hour or so ago, and it takes them almost half an hour to determine that Michael is nowhere to be seen. “Where the hell would he go?” Lincoln stares at the spot where he’d last seen his brother, a familiar guilt gnawing at him, a burning twitch at the back of his neck that makes him want to loosen his collar even more than it already is.

Veronica is biting her bottom lip, her fingers nervously tapping against her thigh. “Maybe he ran into some friends.”

“How could he? He doesn’t know anyone in Texas, let alone Waco.” 

“Excuse me, are you Lincoln Burrows?” He and Veronica turn in unison at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, finding themselves staring at one of the female bar attendants who’d served them earlier that evening. 

“Yeah.”

The blonde girl holds out a small piece of paper. “Your brother left this for you.”

Lincoln blinks, then automatically reaches for the neatly folded note. “Anyone else would have scribbled something on a coaster,” he mutters to himself, then quickly scans the familiar handwriting.

_Gone for a coffee with Lucy. See you back at the hotel._

A slow smile creasing his face, Lincoln shakes his head in unexpected admiration. “Son of a bitch.”

Veronica is trying to peer over his shoulder, her hand tugging gently at his sleeve. “What is it? Is everything okay?”

“Michael’s gone for coffee with that girl.” Lincoln remembers his manners long enough to give the bar attendant a smile. “Thanks, uh -” his gaze drops to her pocket, searching for a nametag, but she’s not wearing one and he realizes too late it looks as though he’s staring at her breasts. “Uh, thanks,” he finishes awkwardly, and she gives him a smiling nod.

“No problem.”

She makes her way back towards the bar, and Lincoln realises she must have been keeping watch for them. Wondering how much of a tip Michael had slipped her - _or maybe he’d just smiled at her the right way_ , he thinks with more than a trace of envy – he turns back to Veronica. “So. What do you want to do now?”

She smirks, curling her hands around his arm, the curve of her breast soft against his bicep. “It’s the strangest thing, but I’m suddenly starving.” She looks around the crowded bar, then back at home. “Want to go somewhere quiet and grab something to eat?”

He brushes aside the thought of the dwindling stash of notes in his wallet, preferring to dwell on the happy fact she’s not ready to say goodnight either. “Works for me.”

Three hours later - hours that go past all too quickly as they huddle at a corner table of a Chinese café, drinking tea and surreptitiously touching each other as much as the bright lighting overhead allows - there’s no avoiding the fact their time together is up. Vee is still living on campus with a roommate who definitely wouldn’t appreciate an overnight guest, and Lincoln’s sleeping arrangements are hardly any more flexible. 

When he finally forces himself to ask for the check, Vee is digging in her purse and pressing a couple of bills into his hand before he has the chance to protest. When he opens his mouth to speak, she cuts him off with a determined smile. “You and Michael flew all the way out here to see me,” she drawls. “Don’t you dare tell me I can’t chip in for dinner.”

He knows he should argue with her, but he also knows he barely has enough cash left to fill his car with gas once he gets back to Chicago. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

When the staff have swept the place out, stacked chairs and turned off half the lights in the place, he knows he has to admit defeat. “I guess we should call it a night.”

Her hand tightens on his knee, sending a rush of heat that seems to hit his groin and his heart at the same time. “I guess.”

Outside in the warm night air, he suddenly feels ridiculously awkward. “Can I walk you back to the dorm?”

She smiles, her vivid eyes sparkling. “You want to carry my books, too?”

Grinning, he slips his arm around her slender shoulders, relishing the feel of her tucked into his side. “I would if you had any.”

She leans into him as they begin to walk, matching her shorter stride to his. “I know.”

They manage to find every shadow and private doorway along the path of their journey, and it takes them almost forty minutes to reach the campus. He’s as hard as a rock once again by the time they reach the security gates, but he doesn’t hesitate to make matters worse by giving her a goodnight kiss that leaves them both breathless, fingers digging into each other’s shoulders and hips. “When will I see you again?”

“Three weeks, I promise,” she mutters against his chest, her mouth hot on his skin bared by the loosened collar of his shirt. He seems to have lost his jacket somewhere between the hotel and here, and he couldn’t give a fuck. “I’ll call you as soon as I arrive.”

He wraps his arms around her, suddenly feeling as though it’s too soon to let her walk away, that he hasn’t had time to make sure they’re both on the same page. “I could pick you up from the airport,” he offers, but she shakes her head, the sleek darkness of her hair brushing against his chin. 

“It’ll be on a weekday, and I don’t want to take you away from work.”

He doesn’t tell her he barely managed to swing the two personal days he needed to be here with her now, nor does he mention the fact that he’s not sure he’ll still be in the same job by the time she gets back to Chicago. Now is not the moment to talk about how he's skating on thin ice when it comes to office politics, not when she’s looking at him as though she still can’t believe he’s here with her. “You’re too good to me,” he says with a smile, a teasing retort he suspects they both know is entirely too true. 

She smiles, then kisses him one last time, her mouth soft and warm, stepping backwards only when his pulse rate is off the scale. “Call me whenever you want, okay?”

He nods, fighting the unexpected urge to put his hand to his mouth, to try and trap the taste of her on his lips. “I will.”

He watches her go, waiting until she waves and vanishes from his sight before he even lets himself blink. _Three weeks,_ he thinks with a slow smile. In three weeks, everything will be back the way it should be. Casting one last look at the last spot he’d seen her, he shoves his hands in his pockets and begins to walk back to the hotel. 

His head is filled with the thought of her, but that doesn’t stop him wondering if he’s going to find Michael in their hotel room or if he’s going to have to start searching all the late-night coffee places in Waco. He tells himself Michael is twenty-one years old and not an idiot, but they’re in a strange city and he’d only known that girl for ten minutes. The thought of something happening to Michael because _he_ was too preoccupied with getting Vee into bed rises up in the back of his throat, burning his tongue like acid.

His question is answered as soon as he pushes open the hotel room door. The light in the small bathroom is on, and from behind the half-closed door, he hears the unmistakable sound of someone cleaning their teeth. “Are you alone in there, or do I have to come back later?”

Michael’s reply is muffled but unmistakably unimpressed. “Hilarious.”

He drops down onto his bed, smiling at the mental picture of Vee hastily straightening the covers after they’d dressed, saying something about not wanting to be a slob. Easing off his shoes, he pulls his dress shirt up and over his head, not bothering to undo the buttons. Whether it was all the walking or their horizontal exertion, he doesn’t know, but the hours with Vee have left him pleasantly exhausted. 

The light in the bathroom is flicked off, and Michael strides across the small room, already dressed in his undershirt and boxers. Lincoln gives him an idle glance, then wrinkles his nose at the distinctly feminine scent trailing in his brother’s wake. He grins. “Nice perfume you’re wearing.”

There’s a pointed silence from the other bed, then Michael yawns loudly, his hands linked behind his head as he stares at the ceiling. “Thanks, I like it.”

Shaking his head, Lincoln gets to his feet and strips down to his own boxers, draping his trousers over the foot of the bed. “Had a big night, did we?”

Michael turns his head, one eyebrow quirked, the beginning of a knowing smile curing his mouth. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

Lincoln knows he’s not going to get anything out of his brother tonight. He also knows he doesn’t want to talk about Vee, not to Michael, not tonight. Tonight he wants to curl his hands around the memory of their time alone and hold them tight against him, if only to convince himself he didn’t imagine it. “I think we should get some sleep.”

Michael snorts, then punches his pillow before rolling over to face the wall. “Works for me.”

~*~

There’s a message waiting for him at the front desk on his first day back at work, telling him to report to the manager’s office. A few minutes later, Lincoln is staring at his supervisor, struggling to keep his rising temper in check. “With all due respect, Mr. Kerr, I checked with Matthews before taking those personal days.”

His boss’ expression doesn’t change. "Matthews isn’t in a position to approve personal days, Burrows, and you know it.”

“It was an emergency, Mr. Kerr, and you weren’t here to ask.” _Fuck only knows where the guy had been last week_ , Lincoln thinks sourly. His secretary had said he’d been away on business, but Lincoln suspects he’d spent much of the week on the golf course.

“The trouble is, Burrows, that this isn’t the first time you’ve taken a short cut around the rules to suit yourself.” The other man leans forward in his chair, his hands folded neatly on the desk in front of him. “If you can’t follow simple procedures like everyone else, then maybe this isn’t the right place for you.”

Lincoln blinks, feeling a familiar tightness encircling his ribs. “I’m sorry, are you firing me?”

“I just don’t think you and this company are a good fit. I’m sure you’d be happier elsewhere.” Kerr gives him a smile that is probably supposed to be sympathetic, a smile that Lincoln would very much like to smack with his fist. “You can pick up your final check from payroll.”

Lincoln says nothing, because there’s nothing to say. He’s been down this road before, and he knows no amount of protests or bad language will change the outcome. Turning on his heel, he slams the door of the office behind him as a parting gesture, vaguely registered the satisfying sound of his former employer’s loud objection. He would have liked to have put his fist through the glass panel in the door instead, but he needs that last paycheck, as measly as it’s going to be.

He drives home, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles begin to sting. He thinks of having to tell Michael he’s lost yet another job and his heart sinks. Then he thinks of trying to come up with the cash to meet the monthly repayments on his loan, and his stomach clenches in unpleasant protest. Veronica Donovan might be coming back to Chicago, but the rest of his life is still stuck in the same old cycle of _suck_ that it always has been, and he’s suddenly afraid that nothing is _ever_ going to change.

~*~

The next two weeks pass by in a blur of frantically searching the want ads and counting the days until his next payment to Crab Simmons is due. He’d signed on for unemployment as soon as he could, but he knows it’s still not going to be enough. He wakes up every morning, feeling as though someone is pressing down on his chest, filled with an unnamed feeling of dread that quickly becomes all too familiar. 

On the day he’s supposed to visit one of Crab’s guys and hand over another two grand, he has twenty bucks in his wallet and even less in his bank account. Knowing the only thing worse than not paying up is going to ground, he steels himself to make the call to ask for more time.

It doesn’t go well. 

The conversation is short and awkward, and Crab’s guy is non-committal, to say the least. “I’ll have to talk to Crab,” he announces, then he’s gone, leaving Lincoln with a dead phone line and a churning gut.

It’s Saturday. Michael is doing a shift at the shelter, and Lincoln is glad he doesn't have to explain any tense phone calls to his curious brother. He spends the next hour doing laundry and cleaning the apartment he and Michael probably won’t be sharing this time next year, anything to keep his mind from replaying the phone conversation with Crab’s goon. He thinks of LJ and how he’s supposed to take him to the park on Sunday, and wonders if he’ll have to turn up with a broken nose or a shattered kneecap. Dropping the tattered dishcloth into the sink, he stares unseeingly out the window at the blank brick wall of the apartment building next door. All he’d wanted was to make things better for them - all of them - but all he’s going to do is drag everyone else down with him.

_God damn it._

When his phone rings, his heart begins to slam against his ribs. He approaches the phone as though it’s a live snake, waiting to rear up and strike. Swallowing hard, he takes a deep breath. “Yeah?”

The familiar lilt of Veronica’s voice floats across the phone line. “It’s me.”

His whole body slumps in relief. “Hey, how are you?”

“I’m home.”

He blinks. “What?” He finds himself looking at his watch, as if he didn’t already know the date by heart. “I didn’t think you’d be here until next week.”

“I managed to sort out everything a lot sooner than I thought.” He can hear the smile in her voice. “Plus, I had an ulterior motive for coming home sooner, remember?” 

Despite his grim thoughts, he grins. “I hope so.”

She laughs softly. “Want to come see my new place?”

“That was quick.”

“One of my girlfriends here helped me find it while I was wrapping things up in Waco,” she tells him, and he can’t help wondering why she didn’t think to ask _him_ to help her. “I signed the lease yesterday.”

Her excitement is infectious, and he finds himself pushing the thought of Crab Simmons from his head with surprising ease. “Give me the address and I’ll be there.”

~*~

She meets him at the front door with a hug and a brief but bruising kiss, her small hand encircling his wrist to tug him inside. “Do you want the tour?” she asks brightly, her wide mouth faintly pink from their kiss.

“Sure.” Sliding his arm around her, he pulls her closer, bending his head until his nose is almost touching hers. “Of course, if you wanted to start in the bedroom, that would be fine with me.”

He sees her smile, then her arms are winding around his neck and she’s kissing him, her mouth tasting of coffee and lip gloss. Sliding his hands down to cup her ass, he lifts her up against him, walking her backwards through the small apartment. “Second door on the right,” she murmurs against his mouth, her breath hot on his lips, and he doesn’t waste a another second on social niceties. Side-stepping the packing boxes that litter the floor, he finds her bedroom and her bed in record time.

Their time together in Texas had been an emotional reaffirmation of what lay between them, but this was something else. This is frantic and hard and a little desperate, clothes being flung onto the floor with clumsy haste, hands gripping hard enough to leave bruises on pale flesh. “God, I’ve missed you,” he growls into the crook of her neck, his hands filled with the delicious curves of her ass and her breasts, the heat between her legs cradling his aching cock. 

“It’s only been two weeks,” she gasps as he pushes inside her, her thighs lifting around his hips, her fingernails sharp on his shoulders.

“Feels much longer,” he manages to say, then the rhythm of his hunger for her takes over, pounding through his blood, narrowing the world down to this bed and the feel over her beneath him. Her hands are cool on his hot skin, but the rest of her is warm, flushed with heat against him, her flesh tight and slick around his, and he feels as though his body might dissolve from the sheer pleasure of it.

Just like she did in Texas, she says his name when she comes, her face twisted in a mask of agonized delight, writhing beneath him as though she can never get close enough to him. When he abandons the struggle to hold himself back, his breath harsh in her ear as he thrusts into her one last time, he knows exactly how she feels.

~*~

“I can’t believe I’m here,” she says later, her voice thick with sleep. “College already feels so far away.”

He runs his hand down the length of her bare back, admiring the smattering of freckles that dot her pale skin. When they were younger, he was always tempted to play connect-the-dots. It seems he hasn’t grown out of the impulse, and he trails his finger from one to the next. “Next phase of your life, I guess.”

“You said it.” She stretches, her bare feet brushing against his calves, her shoulders shifting as she nuzzles her pillow. “The serious job hunting phase.”

His conscience twinges, reminding him he hasn’t told her about his job yet (or rather, the lack of one) but he smothers it. “You’ll do great. Any firm that doesn’t want you isn’t worth your time.”

“I don’t think I should put that on my resume,” she laughs softly, her feet lazily caressing his legs. “What about you?”

He holds his breath. “What about me?”

“How do you feel about all this?” Her voice has dropped to a hazy murmur, and he knows she’s on the brink of falling asleep. “Me being back.”

Pushing himself up on one elbow, he looks down at her, the silken mass of raven hair spilling over her pale shoulder. “I have a strange feeling. Don’t know how to explain it.” He hesitates, wondering if she’ll think he’s an idiot, then decides he doesn’t care. He wants so much to tell her all the things that have been building up inside him the whole time she’s been gone, and if she thinks he’s lost the plot, so be it. He leans closer, his nose twitching at the scent of her, all perfume and warm skin and sex. “You know, uh, my whole life. It’s usually been crazy, noisy, maddening, you know, in my head.” The only other person he’s ever said this to is Michael, and they haven’t talked like this for a long time. “But now it’s quiet.” He presses a kiss to the curve of her shoulder, touching his tongue to the smooth warmth of her skin. “It’s perfect.” He’s babbling now, he knows, but every word he says makes his heart feel lighter. “I’m glad you came back.”

She rolls over to face him, her knee sliding between his. “I thought about you the whole time.”

“You know -” he starts, then hesitates, realizing saying all this stuff was much easier when she wasn’t looking at him. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. I know that.” _If there was ever an understatement uttered in the universe_ , he thinks wryly, _this was it_. “But I’m gonna make it right. 

She smiles, her eyes glittering. “I know you will.” 

He kisses her, a soft touch of his mouth to hers that quickly becomes something sweet and deep, the taste of her filling up his senses, pushing aside everything dark and bitter in his head and his heart. _I want to remember this_ , he thinks suddenly, and pulls away, gazing at her kiss-dazed face. 

One glance at the nightstand confirms the fleeting impression of something he’d seen as he’d lowered her to bed, and he’s soon clutching her camera in his hand.

Her eyes widen. “What are you doing?”

He grins at her. “I wanna remember this.” 

She shakes her head, laughing, ripping the pillow from behind her to hold it in front of her face. “No, no, no.”

He grabs the pillow with his free hand, trying to pull it down. He doesn’t know why this is so important, it just is, and he is not going to let her wriggle out of it. “Come on, come on. Vee. Please!”

Still laughing, she lets the pillow fall, and he knows he’s won. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he pulls her closer, holding the camera above them. One eye on the camera, he’s surprised by the touch of her hand on his face, then the soft warmth of her mouth on his. The flash of the camera flickers through his closed eyelids, and he feels her mouth curve into a smile against his.

“Thank God for digital cameras,” she mutters darkly, and his grin widens. 

“ _Someone’s_ turned into a modest Southern belle.”

She punches him lightly on the arm, then slides her knee a little higher between his, high enough to make him suck in his breath. “You’ll have to reeducate me, then.”

~*~

They order pizza some time around eight o’clock - he tries to call Michael several times, but gets no answer – and eat it straight from the box while sitting on the couch. There’s no coffee table and the crate with her dishes is one of the many sitting on the kitchen floor. Catching his eye, she gives him a rueful smile. “I’ll finish unpacking tomorrow.”

“I’d help you out, but I’m seeing LJ tomorrow.”

Her smile doesn’t waver at the sound of his son’s name, and he thinks he might love her a little bit more for it. “How is he?”

“He’s great.” He wipes his greasy fingers on his napkin, then glances around him at piles of boxes. “I could help you out on Monday, if you like.”

She frowns. “Aren’t you working?”

 _Shit._ “I’m not working there anymore.”

A flicker of disquiet ripples across the smooth surface of her expression, like a stone thrown into a still pond. “Oh.”

He pushes away his plate, his appetite vanishing. “The big boss wasn’t happy with me taking a few days personal leave a while back.”

Her gaze widens. “When you came to my graduation?”

He considers lying to spare her feelings, then decides he’d rather be as honest with her as possible. “Yeah.”

Her face falls. “God, Lincoln, I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault.” He shrugs, closing the lid of the pizza box without meeting her eyes. “I’ve got a few things lined up that look okay.” Okay, so that’s stretching the truth, but it’s not an outright lie. 

She takes a sip of her soda, then sighs. “What did Michael say about you losing your job again?”

“Not much, but he didn’t have to.” He looks at her. “You know what he’s like.”

Her smile is faintly sad. “I do.” She stares down at the lid of the pizza box, sitting between them on the couch, then lifts her gaze to his. “Have you told him yet?”

“Told who what?”

“Told Michael about the money you borrowed.”

“No.” He sees her face, a determined expression he knows only too well, and panic twists through him. “And you can’t tell him either, Vee. I mean it. You promised me.”

She lifts her hands, then drops them again. “I know I promised, but Linc, I honestly thought you might have told him by _now_.”

“I can’t, not yet.”

“Why not?”

He suddenly feels the first beginnings of a headache clawing at his temples. “Because he would hate being that indebted to me, and he’d probably do something stupid like dropping out of college to get a job to try and pay me back.”

She stares at him for a moment, then slowly shakes her head. “I don’t know how two people who know each other so well can misunderstand each other so often.”

He struggles to find the words to explain the unexplainable, then he shakes his own head. “Can we not talk about this now, please?”

Her face softens. “Sure.” She reaches out to him, her fingertips brushing the back of his hand. “I’ve got my first interview on Monday. Bianchi and Guthrie, remember I told you about them?”

“Yeah. You said they were a good firm?”

She nods, looking as relieved as he feels to be back on safer ground. “If I can get in on the ground floor with them, I’ll be set for the next few years.”

When his phone rings a short time later, he’s so sure it’s Michael that he answers it without a second thought. “Hey.”

“I hear you’re thinking of not paying me this month.”

The bottom falls out of his stomach at the sound of Crab Simmons’ voice. Rising to his feet, he moves away from the couch, wanting desperately to put some distance between Vee and this part of his life. “Hey, man, look, I can’t really talk right now.”

“That’s okay, because this conversation is almost over. I want that two grand in my man’s hand by ten o’clock tomorrow night, or I am going to have to start seriously reconsidering the terms of our agreement.”

“Tomorrow night might be a problem,” Lincoln says carefully, painfully aware of Vee’s sharp gaze. His statement is met by an ominous silence, then a reply that makes his blood run cold.

“Don’t make me send in the repo men, my friend. They’re not too careful about what they take, if you know what I mean.”

For the second time that day, he’s left with the dial tone in his ear and a head filling with despair. 

“Lincoln? Everything okay?”

He looks at Veronica, at her beautiful little face, and he knows he can’t drag her into this. “Everything’s good.” 

She studies him for a moment longer, her eyes searching his as if trying to see past his bland reply. Picking up his glass, he takes a sip of soda he barely tastes, then gives her a smile that makes his face feel as though it might crack. “Tell me more about this job interview of yours.” 

After giving him one final searching glance, she does. He watches her, nodding and smiling in the right places, listening to her words without actually hearing them, feeling the space between them growing wider and wider, filling up with all the things he’ll never be able to tell her. They might as well be on two different planets, because what he wants and what's best for her are never, ever going to be the same thing. No matter what he does, he's only going to drag her down with him, just like he always has, and the shock of finally letting himself admit it feels like a cold knife in his gut, almost making him flinch. _That’s the problem with epiphanies_ , he thinks bitterly, watching her as she talks softly, her smile lighting up her eyes. _You never know when to expect them._

~*~


End file.
